For Better For Worse (23 page)

‘As far as I’m concerned,’ said Annie, ‘living here is only temporary.’

‘I didn’t think for one minute that either of you would want to live with me for the rest of your lives,’ Kaye chuckled. ‘But each of us could help each other, you know, a bit like giving someone a leg up.’

‘Henry will be out soon,’ Annie tutted. ‘He’ll support Edward and me. I don’t need to get a job.’

‘It won’t hurt for you to develop a skill,’ Kaye said patiently. ‘What about you, Sarah? How best could you support yourself and your children?’

Sarah was beginning to feel rather light-headed. Her anger was mellowing but her brain was still refusing to function. She shrugged. ‘It would have to be something respectable.’

‘A shop?’ Kaye suggested.

‘I have no capital,’ said Sarah, gulping more wine.

Annie turned to face her. ‘What are you good at?’

‘Cooking,’ Sarah said dully, ‘sewing … but there’s not a lot of money in either of those.’

‘You’re good with people,’ Kaye chipped in. ‘How about nursing?’

‘Fat chance,’ Sarah scoffed. ‘How on earth would I manage shift work with my children?’

‘We’ll help each other, remember?’ said Kaye.

The full import of what she was proposing finally began to dawn on Sarah. She really meant it, didn’t she? Help each other … make a new start … put the past well and truly behind them … ‘You’re actually saying that you would look after my children while I was learning some sort of skill?’

‘Why not?’ said Kaye.

Sarah sat up straight. If this was true, then Kaye was offering her a golden opportunity. This was more than a stroke of luck, this was a whole future. ‘I don’t know,’ she said, her voice suddenly small. ‘All my life I’ve sort of bumbled along. I’ve never even thought about being independent.’

‘Would you like to be a nurse?’

Sarah shook her head. ‘Married women aren’t allowed to nurse anyway,’ she said. ‘I know I’m not married but I do have two children. They would never allow me to nurse under those circumstances and, to be honest, I’m far too squeamish.’

‘My mother wants me to teach the piano,’ Annie hiccupped.

‘You have to take exams for that,’ said Kaye.

‘I won’t really need it,’ said Annie. ‘Henry will be out before the summer and he’s coming back for ush.’

‘Oh, do shut up!’ Sarah blurted out. There was a shocked silence and then she appealed to Kaye. ‘Look, we both know that if she went back to him he’d never allow her to work.’

‘You’re probably right,’ said Kaye, ‘but how long before he moves on?’

‘Henry would never leave me and the baby,’ cried Annie.

‘Then why not do it to please your mother?’ Kaye suggested. ‘She’s going without her dress allowance to give you this chance to keep Edward.’

Annie sighed and pulled a face. ‘I’m very rushty. I shall need a shedload of practice.’ She closed her eyes as she spoke but didn’t seem to notice that her speech was becoming slightly slurry.

‘You practise and we’ll take care of Edward,’ said Kaye.

Annie rounded on her. ‘Hang on a minute. What about you? What’s in it for you?’

‘I’ve just lost my independence again,’ said Kaye, walking around with the wine bottle once more. ‘I shall need someone to look after Lottie when I’m writing.’

Annie went to put her elbow on the arm of the chair and missed.

‘Go steady with that wine, Kaye,’ Sarah cautioned. ‘Don’t forget Annie is breastfeeding.’

‘Hells bells,’ said Kaye. ‘I’m sorry. I never gave it a thought.’

They heard a distant baby cry. Edward was awake and hungry. Annie leaned forward. ‘Are you saying it’ll be in the milk?’ She giggled. ‘Oh dear.’ She wobbled to the door and went upstairs.

Kaye smiled after her and then turned to look at Sarah, but before she could say anything, Sarah stood up abruptly. ‘I need to go to bed. It’s been a long day.’

‘Sarah,’ Kaye said to her receding back, ‘I know you are angry, but it’s really not her fault.’

*

Alone in her room, Sarah finally felt the heat draining from her cheeks, but she didn’t want to stop feeling angry. Not yet. She had really been looking forward to Christmas, but everything was spoiled now. Miserably, she undressed and climbed into bed. As she heard the baby’s reedy cry coming up the stairs, she turned her face to the wall. Kaye actually expected her to live in the same house as that silly girl. How was she going to cope? Talk about rubbing your nose in it, but she was in no position to do anything about it now, so until she could stand on her own two feet, she would have to put up with it.

Sarah spent the remaining days leading up to the big day finishing off the jobs in the kitchen. The first week after she’d arrived at Copper Beeches, she had found some spices in the pantry and, using her own coupons as well as Kaye’s, she’d managed to get all the ingredients together to make a Christmas cake. She’d soaked a pound of mixed fruit overnight so that the currants and sultanas swelled, then she’d baked it and stored it away until now. It was ready to be decorated with a couple of snowmen and a chipped Father Christmas she’d found at the back of the drawer. When she’d finished, she felt quite chuffed about it. In keeping with tradition, she’d made two cakes, but she rewrapped the second cake in greaseproof paper and put it in an airtight tin ready for Easter. Her mother had always said that fruit cakes improved with keeping. Because of lack of time, she’d bought the Christmas pudding at the school Christmas Fair which was held in the middle of December. It was ready for reheating on the day and all she had to remember was to push a silver threepenny bit deep inside. On Christmas Eve, she planned to make cheese straws and more minced pies (using her own home-made mincemeat laced with stout) and later in the evening, when her children were in bed, she would wrap up their presents.

Ever since the delivery man carried the Christmas tree into the house on December 22nd, a rich aroma of woodland forest had filled the sitting room. It stood in a bucket of sand and the children helped Kaye and Lottie to decorate it with some rather threadbare pieces of tinsel, edible gingerbread men and Christmas bells. Lottie climbed onto a chair to put the angel on the topmost branch, while Jenny held onto a piece of crêpe paper which Kaye tied onto the outside of the bucket, making an oversized bow. The children watched starry-eyed as the ruffled crêpe paper streamers were hung across the room crossing at the centre where several balloons hid the drawing pins from view. By the time they’d finished, the whole room looked very festive and Lottie clapped her hands, her button eyes shining with excitement. ‘This is going to be my best Christmas … ever.’ Sarah couldn’t resist putting her arm around her shoulder and giving her a hug.

The weather outside was damp and grey and every afternoon, a thick sea mist drifted across the driveway and lawn. The rest of the country was in the grip of fog as well. Trains were badly delayed and in some places the fog was so dense the authorities had to put detonator flares on the rails to help oncoming trains to see that they were on the line. Without flares the train drivers couldn’t see a thing. In London, even in daylight, large oblong flares had been set up on the pavements to light the way, but already four people had been killed as a direct result of the terrible weather conditions. But all that didn’t stop Kaye from gazing out of the window and saying, ‘I wonder if it will be a white Christmas this year?’

Annie kept herself apart from the others. Most of her time was taken up with the baby anyway and she was becoming more and more concerned. Now that she had him all to herself, Edward didn’t seem to like her. Every time she changed his nappy and wrapped him in his shawl he screamed. He cried in his cot until, hot and sweaty, he exhausted himself and finally went off to sleep. Annie tried everything to make him happy. She would rock him and talk soothingly, but it was no use. He resisted all her attentions and continued to cry and, what was even worse, he did it day and night. She was beginning to feel worn out herself and it didn’t help matters when Mrs Goodall came round to complain that when she’d opened her bedroom window to give the baby some fresh air, Edward’s crying had disturbed her afternoon soirée with friends.

When her mother turned up the day before Christmas Eve, Annie had every intention of asking her what to do, but instead they had rowed.

‘If you really loved me,’ she’d pouted angrily, ‘you would have given me my independence. I shouldn’t be forced to stay here with these women. Why can’t I have a flat of my own somewhere?’

‘Oh darling,’ her mother protested, ‘just think how dismal it would be being on your own.’

‘I may as well be,’ Annie grumbled. ‘Nobody here talks to me anyway.’

Her mother raised an eyebrow. ‘And have you bothered to talk to them?’

‘That’s not the point,’ said Annie, raising her voice. ‘I want to come home with you and Father. How can you expect me to spend Christmas in this … this hellhole?’

‘You know perfectly well that your father won’t have you back while you’ve still got Edward,’ said Judith firmly. ‘He has to be very careful about getting involved in even a whiff of scandal. People can be very unforgiving about those in the public eye.’

‘Sometimes I think he cares more about his reputation than he does about his family,’ Annie snapped.

Judith sighed. ‘Annie, it’s time you stopped moaning about what you haven’t got and made the most of what you have got. I’m doing my best.’

‘Oh yes, of course, I forgot,’ said Annie cuttingly. ‘You’ve given up your dress allowance, haven’t you? Not much of a sacrifice for your only daughter, is it?’

Judith was cut to the quick but she managed to keep her cool. She told herself her daughter was overwrought. Looking after a tiny baby was a big responsibility and she was only young. She couldn’t understand why Annie hated being here. Everyone seemed so nice and her room was really attractive. They sat drinking tea and making quiet conversation until the baby stopped crying and fell asleep.

As she left, Judith handed her daughter a couple of presents, one for her and the other for Edward. Annie, in turn, handed her a jar of Pond’s cold cream wrapped in some of last year’s Christmas paper for herself and a brown paper parcel for her father.

‘Take care of yourself, darling, and I’ll try to see you again before the New Year.’

Her mother gone, Edward woke up and began to bawl again. Annie frowned dejectedly. ‘Oh Edward, what am I going to do with you? I wish your daddy was here.’

*

Christmas promised to be a bleak time for Henry, stuck as he was in a place which reeked of bleach, cooked cabbage and pent-up testosterone. He had two presents. A tin of coffee crunch, riffled, and a light-hearted book called
Whisky Galore
by Compton MacKenzie. Both presents, reeking of her expensive perfume, were from the woman he called his ‘guilty secret’ and helped to wile away a very tedious and boring day. There was the promise of the Salvation Army band coming to play in the prison grounds on Christmas Day, but apart from that, the prison routine was barely altered despite the season. There was little variety in his life now. The Criminal Justice Act passed by parliament in July meant that life in British prisons had changed. Hard labour had been abolished as had being whipped for violent crimes, but in its place the prison authorities expected the inmates to take part in other activities. Henry was given the choice of bookbinding or hand-sewing mailbags. He chose the bookbinding and it meant that once a day he was able to get out of his cell and go to the prison workshop.

One thing gave him great pleasure. Big Frankie had been true to his word and had retrieved the letter Henry had sent to Kaye’s solicitor. A couple of days later, Henry sent it back again, but this time the papers inside had been ripped up, with his own signature heavily scratched out. He had also inserted a Christmas card he had procured from another inmate. It had cost him an extra slopping-out duty, but it was worth every stinking minute. Inside he’d written, ‘Happy Christmas to my darling wife, Kaye. I can’t wait to see you when I get out in April.’ Next Christmas, he told himself, he would be well-off again, and with his son. He couldn’t wait to see Kaye’s face when he turned up on the doorstep. The only problem now was to find out exactly where she lived. He’d racked his brains to recall what she’d said when she’d climbed into the witness box. It took a couple of days before he remembered that the judge had allowed her to write down her address on a piece of paper. The court usher had handed it to him, so the judge was the only one who knew where she lived. Damn. That meant he had to work out another plan. It was obvious that the solicitor wouldn’t pass on her address. The BBC would know where she was but getting the address out of them might prove to be a bit tricky.

*

Sarah woke up in the middle of the night. The baby was crying again. She lay on her back and waited for him to stop, but his angry protest seemed to go on forever. What on earth was his mother doing? Why didn’t she pick him up? Sarah tutted to herself. If Annie didn’t go and see to the child soon, she would have to. As soon as Peter Millward got back from Wales, she would accept his offer and marry him. He was right. He was a good man and the girls thought the world of him. She would learn to love him and forget his unattractive features. She suddenly felt relaxed. She should have made this decision months ago.

The door of her room opened slowly, and because Sarah slept with the curtains open, she could see Jenny standing there rubbing her eyes. ‘Mummy, Edward is crying.’

‘I know, darling,’ said Sarah, throwing off the covers. ‘Go back to bed. I’ll see to him.’ She took her daughter back to her room and tucked her into bed. The night light on the saucer was guttering, so she found a new one before she left. Lu-Lu snored on peacefully. ‘Don’t worry,’ she said, kissing Jenny’s forehead. ‘Mummy will sort it out. I guess Edward’s mummy has fallen asleep.’

Pulling on her coat (she had no dressing gown), Sarah hurried downstairs. That girl had to be told to pull her socks up. This was the third night in a row everyone in the house had gone without sleep. As she neared Sarah’s bedroom, she heard Annie say, ‘It’s no use. Whatever I do he cries. He hates me.’